At All Costs
by Joeser
Summary: "They told me I need a connection, a friend…" The way his voice broke at the end of that sentence wasn't intentional. It was his heart's desire, and he wasn't afraid to show it to her.
1. Looking for a Connection

_Arlington University - Arlington, Virginia_

"You think this is a game? This is my life and you're supposed to help me. Or don't you care how many filets I slice your... roommate into?" Sylar took another step closer to the couch and looked down. "If you're not gonna contribute, I'll just have to take the answers from your head."

"You're gonna slice my head open again?"

"Oh, I've evolved way beyond that. My friend Lydia gave me a much more precise instrument." Sylar placed his left hand on the back of the couch for support and quickly lowered his body over hers. "She could read someone just by touching them, see in the very depth of their soul... Of course, her methods were a little hyper erotic, but…" He placed his other hand on her left cheek and leaned in. "Oh, what the hell. It is college, isn't it?"

"No! Get off me!"

Sylar smiled and did the exact opposite. He straddled her legs and sat back on his heels as he looked down at her. He was so close. So close he could almost taste it. It was right there in front of him. The answer to all his questions was within arm reach and all he had to do was lean down. But the cheerleader wasn't willing to contribute, as expected. "Don't worry," he said, gently brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "I'm not gonna hurt you."

"So I'm supposed to just let you grope me?"

"If that's what it takes to get what I want." Sylar shrugged. He seriously didn't see why it was such a big deal. "I can think of worse ways to pass the time."

"You really think you can get what you want by molesting me? What's wrong with you?"

"It's called perseverance."

Claire rolled her eyes. "It's called greed. Egocentric, self-centered, shallow, that's what you are. You only care about yourself. That connection you're looking for, you're not gonna find it. No one will ever love you. You will never have a friend. You are going to be alone for the rest of your life and do you wanna know why? It's because nobody gives a shit about you."

"Then tell me what this is." Sylar rolled up his sleeve and showed her the tattoo again. "You see that? That is _your_ face on _my_ arm. That didn't just happen for no reason." He leaned down until his face was just inches away from hers and narrowed his eyes. "You're supposed to have all the answers, _Claire_. Why don't you just give them to me?"

Claire stared back up at him and frowned. "Did you kill her?"

"Lydia?" Sylar looked down at his arm and quickly rolled down his sleeve to cover up the tattoo. He knew he should have killed that woman. After what she did to him, how she tried to use him, betrayed him, humiliated him... _Impotent_ , that was the word she had used to describe his inability to kill. She was lucky he was kind enough to leave her behind in one piece. "Haven't you heard?" he asked, resuming stroking Claire's golden hair to keep his hands busy. "I can take abilities now without spilling a single drop of blood."

"Good for you," was Claire's response before she turned her head sideways to avoid further eye-contact.

"Oh, come on. You can't tell me that that's still bothering you. That was a long time ago and, truth be told, I kind of did you a favor."

"A _favor_?" she asked as she turned her head back to look at him.

Sylar dropped his arms to his side when Claire suddenly sat up, leaning on her elbows and looking very angry. He had loosened her invisible bonds on purpose, just to make things more interesting, but now he realized he might have given her a little too much freedom to move around.

"I can't _feel_ anything!" she said with gritted teeth.

"Good. Then you won't feel this either." Sylar grabbed her wrists, placed them on either side of her head and pushed her back onto the leather sofa. He leaned down and tried to kiss her again, but he wasn't fast enough. She turned her head away, _again_.

"Stop it!"

He let out an angry growl and sat back. "It's _just_ a kiss, Claire. It won't kill you."

"I'd rather be dead then be kissed by _you_."

"Cheeky little..." Sylar sighed. He had to give her some credit for constantly putting up a fight, for never giving up. The whole thing was taking way too long and he was getting impatient as hell, but he had always liked a challenge and this one... This one proved to be a lot more challenging then he initially thought. He didn't mind. Not at all. He was getting kind of tired of getting everything done so easily. "You really think you can stop me?" he asked as he placed one hand back on her cheek.

"I think I already did. Twice." She smirked. She actually had the nerve to smirk at him. "I think you're just too much of a coward to admit it."

"Think again." Sylar leaned down and pressed his lips against hers. For a moment he felt victorious for finally getting what he wanted. His victory didn't last long, though. It lasted about two seconds before he suddenly felt a stab of pain in the right side of his face.

He let out a yell, fell backward, and rolled off the couch with a soft thump. His hand reached for his eye automatically, because that's where the pain seemed to be coming from, but then it bumped into an object which only caused the pain to increase. There was something stuck in his right eye, some long, thin and very sharp object. And when he opened his left eye to check the damage, the only thing he could see beside his own blood, was the back end of a pencil sticking out.

She had stabbed him in the eye with a pencil.

Looking past the pencil, he saw Claire going for the door. "Shit..." He had to set his pain aside for a moment to get back to what was important. He had to focus. With a simple wave of his hand he closed the door and stopped Claire from trying to escape. He grabbed the pencil with both hands and pulled it out in one go as he walked towards the other side of the room.

Claire stood with her back against the door, looking daggers at Sylar for trapping her in the room with him. "Let me go."

Sylar approached her slowly, blinking his eye repeatedly as it began to heal, returning to its former shape. Stabbing him in the eye was a blunt move, but he admired her fierceness. It was just another trait they had in common. "Your roommate clearly isn't that important to you if you're willing to risk her life like that."

"I cannot give you what you want, so I might as well try to save the one person that's only ever been there for me, right? You know. Before it's too late."

"Nothing will happen to her as long as you do what I say." He didn't know why she had to make such a fuss about something as simple as a kiss. "Why won't you help me?"

"Why do you insist on kissing me to get your answers?"

Sylar shrugged. "It worked with Lydia." He touched Claire's forehead with his index finger, letting it rest for a second and then traced the cut he once made there. There was no scar, but he knew exactly where it would have been if it had not healed. "But you're right. I should be able to read you," he bowed his head until his forehead touched hers, "just by touching you." He then closed his eyes and waited, hoping, just hoping she wouldn't stab him again.

"So?" Claire asked after about a minute of standing in silence. "Have you got what you came for?"

Sylar opened his eyes and backed away slightly to study the cheerleader's face. "Interesting..."

"What's interesting? What are you talking about?" Claire shrugged his hands from her shoulders and tried to increase the distance between the two of them, but she was trapped between his arms. "Let me go."

Sylar ignored her. "I was right..."

"About what?"

"We _are_ the same," he pondered quietly. And on that note he distanced himself from Claire, giving her all the space she needed to open the door and run back to her friend. It was over. He got the answer he needed. It wasn't the answer he'd been hoping for, but it was something.

"I told you," Claire went on. "I'm nothing like you. When are you going to get that through your thick head?"

Sylar decided to stop listening and turned around instead. He walked over to the couch and sat down, craving some peace and quiet to think. Looking into Claire's soul had told him quite a lot. Her face appearing on his forearm _did_ happen for a reason, and now he finally knew what that reason was.

He needed her.

And she needed him.

And now he needed to figure out what he was going to do with that information.

His eyes were closed, but he knew Claire was still there. He felt her presence, just like he always felt it when someone was near. But Claire didn't stay much longer. After a couple of seconds Sylar heard the door open and fall shut, indicating her departure.

He didn't mind. He let her go on purpose. He needed time to think. He knew what they meant to each other now. He knew what the connection was between them. It was fear.

Fear of being alone.

Touching Claire had showed him how much her fear of ending up alone was controlling her life. It was, strangely enough, a big relief for Sylar to find out that she felt that way. He had the exact same anxieties. He didn't want to be alone either.

But he was. And so was Claire, even though she would never admit it to anyone. Sure, she still had her family, Bennet, her mother and brother, Angela, Peter, and that roommate of hers, which was obviously more than just a roommate if you asked him, but that wasn't any of his business. Fact was, they weren't going to be around forever, and that must have been constantly on her mind ever since she discovered her powers. Just like it had always been on Sylar's mind ever since he took those powers from her.

If it was up to him, they would just forget about the past, move on and try to build some sort of relationship. Not in the romantic sense of the word, because Claire wouldn't be interested even if he was the last man on earth, but if they could be friends of some sort, that would be enough for him.

 _If_ it was up to him. It wasn't up to him, though. Claire didn't want to have anything to do with him. She hated him, she hated everything about him. Her heart's desire was for him to die, preferably in the most horrible way anyone could ever imagine. How on earth was he going to change the way she felt about him? How much sacrifice would it take to fix what he had broken?

Forgiveness was the key. If Sylar somehow managed to make Claire forgive him for all the things he did to her, he could have a chance. The gesture had to be big, big enough to make up for the fact that he practically killed her, killed her family and attempted to kill others close to her. Big enough for Claire to accept the fact that it was him she had to put up with for the rest of her life.

Then, and only then, she might be able to tolerate him being near her.


	2. One Step Closer

_Mercy Heights Hospital - New York City_

Sylar waited for the doors to slide open and left the elevator in a bit of a hurry. Lots of people stared at him as he walked past the helpdesk, turned left and proceeded down the hallway, but he ignored them. He was well aware that half his face was still covered in blood from being stabbed in the eye with a pencil. Washing it off was just too much of an effort and only seemed like a big waste of time to him. There were more important matters.

His tattoo for instance. He was still lying on that couch, thinking about ways to earn Claire's forgiveness, when he discovered that the cheerleader's face had vanished from his forearm completely. This didn't bother him in the slightest (he was actually quite glad to be rid of it), but then he continued his brainstorm session and he came to a rather disquieting conclusion. Claire was never going to forgive him, unless...

Unless there was nothing _to_ forgive.

This was, of course, impossible. Sylar had taken the cheerleader's healing powers by force (and apparently took away the only thing that made her feel 'normal'). She was never going to forgive him for what he did to her that day, and going back in time to stop himself from taking her ability wasn't an option. It would not only change the future (hell no), but it would also probably kill him.

Choosing to go down that road would be like digging his own grave.

But Claire Bennet hated Sylar for more than one reason. There had been other 'incidents' after taking her ability, things he had done, people he killed, lives he ruined, which in the course of time only added to Claire's hatred towards him. Things that could be undone, but only if they were handled carefully and deliberately.

It meant there was still hope for him.

But in order to go back in time and stop himself from ruining Claire's life, Sylar needed a plan. And to work out his plan he needed someone to help him. More specifically, he needed a highly competent time-traveler, who was not only easy to manipulate, but also attentive to detail, devoted and trustworthy. There was only one time-traveler he could think of and, unfortunately for him, this time-traveler did not meet any of the requirements.

It wasn't like he had much of a choice. It had to be Hiro Nakamura. Even Samuel's ink seemed to agree with him, which was still inside his body, apparently. It didn't show the time-traveler's face or name, nor anyone else's. Instead, it showed a word. One word, written in a very artistic sort of way with neat lines and a nice-looking curl at the end.

 _Mercy_

Sylar figured it out rather quickly.

Going to that particular hospital was one thing, though. Looking for one patient among dozens if not hundreds of others, was slightly more difficult. The woman at the desk on the first floor had told him to go to the neurology wing, but the place was so immensely big, it took another quarter of an hour to find what he was looking for.

And then, as he turned left again at the end of the hallway, he finally saw the familiar face of Hiro Nakamura. A sense of relief washed over him, knowing he was one more step closer to his goal.

He just had one tiny problem. Hiro was most definitely going to freak out the minute he caught sight of Sylar, even though Sylar had no intention to harm him. He needed Hiro alive, but he also needed Hiro to stay calm. He didn't want to cause a scene and draw attention to himself by bluntly announcing his presence, so he decided to go with a more careful approach.

His target wasn't even aware of him yet. Something else had drawn Hiro's attention and Sylar was curious, so he followed Hiro's gaze into the room on the other side of the hallway. There he saw a man, a woman, and two children standing around a hospital bed.

The patient they had come to visit was an old woman with reddish-brown hair and doey eyes. Sylar watched them talk as he sat down on a chair next to Hiro. He didn't know how to have a normal conversation with someone he had tried to kill numerous times, but he tried it anyway. "Must be nice, being surrounded by so many loved ones at that age." He peered at Hiro from the corner of his eye and waited a moment, but no response came. Hiro didn't even recognize his voice. "Do you know her?"

Hiro gave a slight nod. "I know her."

"Is she a friend?"

"Yes."

Sylar threw his head back and sighed soundlessly. He was getting impatient. There was no way he could make his presence known to Hiro without freaking him out. He just had to get it over with and tell Hiro what was going to happen. "Here's the thing," he said, turning to face Hiro. "You do exactly as I say and no one has to get hurt."

Hiro slowly turned his head and looked at Sylar. His face dropped. His body froze. For a moment he just sat there and stared, not knowing what to do or what to expect.

Sylar had to admit, he quite enjoyed the little man's reaction. Watching Hiro swallow, that little wobble of his Adam's apple after realizing that it was Sylar who was sitting next to him and not just some stranger, was a reminder of the reputation he had built over the years. He reveled in the fact that he was still able to cause so much fear, when all he had to do was show up.

"You!" Hiro suddenly shouted. He jumped up from his chair and balled his fists, reaching for a sword that simply wasn't there anymore. He probably realized how stupid that must have looked and quickly dropped his hands to his sides. "You stay away!"

Sylar raised his hands in a mocking manner, but didn't move. He hadn't even done or said anything to threaten Hiro and the little Japanese man was already jumping to the worst conclusions. "As tempting as it sounds, I'm not here to fight. I'm here because I need a favor, from you."

Hiro was definitely taken aback. "Me?" he asked, trying to sound braver than he looked. "Why me?"

"Well..." Sylar said as he got to his feet. "First of all, you're the only one who has what it takes to help me get what I want. Your ability... It is quite unique. Second of all, you owe me for stopping me from killing your girlfriend, three years ago. I didn't get that ability because of you and now I think it's time for you to make it up to me."

Hiro quickly glanced at the old lady's room, before looking back at Sylar. "Charlie..."

Sylar too, looked at her through the glass and momentarily wondered what her relationship was to Hiro. She certainly was important enough for him to stare at for the past five minutes.

And then, slowly, it began to dawn on him. "That's right... Charlie."

Hiro pressed his lips together and took another step back. "Yes, you helped Charlie get better, but we made a deal. I told you what would happen to you in the future."

"I will kill many people," Sylar said, remembering Hiro's words like it was yesterday. "I will become very powerful, but I will be alone. Yes, Hiro, that is what you told me." Hiro did tell him the truth that day. Sylar had been living a life of solitude and he had become quite powerful, but things were different now. Being powerful alone just wasn't enough for him anymore. He needed something else. Something more meaningful. "As I recall it, you didn't tell me anything I didn't already know. You merely described my life as it already was."

"The space-time continuum! If I tell you more, you will step on too many butterflies."

"And what about sweet Charlie? I'm sure you've killed more than just one butterfly by keeping her alive instead of letting her die, like you should have."

"I..."

"Meaning, you still owe me." Sylar was getting more impatient by the minute. If Hiro didn't want to listen, than Sylar just had to force him to listen. "Maybe I need to remind you of what happens when things don't go my way."

Hiro frowned, making him look even more helpless than usual. He didn't understand, or maybe he didn't want to, but when Sylar turned around to look at a certain elderly woman, Hiro figured it out. "Don't hurt her!"

That was probably meant as a warning, but Sylar pretended like he didn't hear it. He knew just exactly why Hiro had been staring at that woman for so long. "She looks an awful lot like your waitress, don't you think? The resemblance is remarkable. Especially those eyes..."

"Stay away from her," Hiro said, putting his body in between the old lady's room and Sylar. Again, Sylar hadn't as much as moved and Hiro was trying to be the hero again. "If you hurt her, I will kill you."

Sylar smiled. Hiro's death threat was just one of many and did not need to be taken seriously. "It _is_ her." Something obviously went wrong with one of Hiro's time-travelling adventures, but Sylar did not need to hear the story. That wasn't why he was here. "That's just perfect. Now I can finally take what was supposed to be mine in the first place." He held out his hand in the woman's direction, but before he could do anything Hiro already had his hand on Sylar's forearm and teleported him to the other end of the hallway.

"Okay," Hiro said as he distanced himself from Sylar. "I will help you, but leave Charlie alone."

It took a while, but Sylar finally got his way without actually having to do anything. He wasn't exactly looking forward to killing that woman, he even doubted he had it in him to kill her. Not that it mattered. He had his leverage as long as Hiro kept seeing him as a threat. "I was going to ask for your time-travelling services to correct a few mistakes I made in the past, but seeing what it did to Ms. unforgettable over there, doesn't exactly guarantee that you can pull this off..." He didn't just say that to taunt Hiro. He was actually starting to doubt the time-traveler's capabilities.

"That wasn't me," Hiro said, trying very hard to sound convincing. "It was Samuel. Butterfly-man."

"Of course." That still made no sense, but Sylar just had to take his word for it, for now. "Then I guess I just have to trust you to not screw this up for me."

"I help you, but you stay away from Charlie."

"Nothing will happen to her as long as you do as I say." That was the second time he had threatened to kill someone in one day. Empty threats weren't really his thing, but it was the only way to get things done these days. If anybody ever found out about his 'malfunction', they would stop taking his threats seriously and he would lose the only leverage he had. "And if you double cross me, I swear, I will do more than just take her life."

"What do I do?" Hiro asked, accepting his role as Sylar's hostage.

Sylar gave a satisfied smile and started looking around. "Not here," he said. "You need to teleport us away from here, to a place where no one can find us."

"Why?"

"Because, apart from you and me, no one can know about this." Sylar hesitated a moment, but then decided it was probably wise not to tell Hiro everything, yet. "What we're about to do is extremely dangerous and I don't just mean for us. We are going to break a lot of rules when it comes to time-travelling and the only way to not step on any butterflies, is to keep our mouths shut. You cannot tell _anyone_ about this. Not even that friend of yours. Understood?"

"Why? What will you do?"

"What did I just say? Not. Here."

"Where?"

"I don't care." Sylar wondered how long it would take before he lost his patience with Hiro completely. It was going to be a very long day if Hiro kept answering his every question with another question. "Just pick the first place that comes to mind."

Hiro nodded and took a moment to think. After a couple of minutes he suddenly touched Sylar's upper-arm with the palm of his hands and squeezed his eyes shut.

Sylar had been teleported before, but the experience of going from one place to the other in less than a second, still felt quite strange to him. Everything around him changed so quickly. The temperature, the sound, the air, the smell... And even though his body had to adjust to these changes faster than it could handle, the fact remained that teleportation was a wonderful ability. It certainly worked a lot faster than flight.

The place Hiro had chosen however, was less wonderful. "I sure hope this isn't the past you've brought me to."

"No."

"In that case..." Sylar walked to the middle of the room and tried to breathe through his mouth as much as he could. "I think this is perfect." Apart from the terrible mess someone had left behind, he reckoned the smell was bad enough to keep out anyone who dared to enter. It smelled like something had died and had been rotting away for months. "What _is_ that? Did you know about this? Is that why you chose this place?"

"No."

"Well, you must've brought me here for a reason..." Sylar turned around and started searching the apartment. There wasn't much left of its former habitant. Just a couple of empty canvasses, some broken furniture, lots of paintbrushes and a dozen or so empty milk cartons. "Didn't Mohinder use this place to do research?" He quickly gazed over his shoulder at Hiro, but all the little man did was shrug. Hiro wasn't being very cooperative. "Remember what I said about double crossing me."

"You said you made a mistake. What mistake?"

Sylar laughed at Hiro for trying to change the subject. The little guy was definitely hiding something. " _Mistakes_. Two of them to be exact," Sylar said as he continued searching the apartment. "I didn't know they were mistakes when I made them, but now I do and I realize that these mistakes are what's keeping me from having the life I want. The only way to change that is to go back in time and stop myself from making them."

"I don't understand."

"Of course you don't." Sylar walked over to the other side of the room and as he walked, he noticed the smell was growing stronger with each step. It was definitely coming from the other room, but before going in there to see what was causing it, he turned around. "I'm not asking you to understand. I'm asking you to use your ability in a way you've never used it before."

"What do you mean?"

"My plan is to go back in time and bring back two people who died because of me."

"Who?"

"Meredith Gordon and Nathan Petrelli."

Hiro looked more confused than ever. "H-how?"

Sylar smiled. "By not killing them, of course."


	3. Whatever it Takes

_Isaac Mendez's loft – New York City_

"Level 5." Sylar placed his fingertips on the sketch he made of the Primatech building. It was a little rough around the edges, but he needed it to show Hiro what the building looked like from the inside, because they were going to teleport directly into one of the underground levels. "This is where they kept the most dangerous, the most important and the most useful people with abilities locked up, far beneath the ground. It's also the one with the highest level of security, but we don't need worry about that. I was in charge of security that day."

Hiro was clearly not amused. Either he thought Sylar's joke wasn't funny or he didn't understand the joke because he wasn't there that day.

The day that Sylar decided to get even, the day he got the whole Company on lockdown and trapped everyone inside, all by himself. And what a fun day it was, finally being able to exterminate the vermin that was responsible for disrupting his life. Feeding him lies, giving him false hopes, pretending to be something else and using him to do their dirty work.

But, looking back on that day, Sylar couldn't help but wonder what it would have been like if he had succeeded. What if he had spent less time playing games and a little more time doing actual damage? Maybe if he hadn't been so damn busy having fun, he wouldn't have gotten himself killed, and none of the shit that happened after would have actually happened.

Sylar cleared his throat and moved his hand over a couple of squares he drew on the canvas. "These blocks are the cells, like prison cells, except these were specially designed for people like us. We will find Meredith in one of them. They'll all be empty except for the one she's in, so we won't have any trouble finding her."

Hiro mumbled something in Japanese which kind of sounded like an insult but also like he understood what Sylar was telling him.

"I know it's a bit of a risk, but if everything goes as planned, neither of us will have to get hurt. Remember, you are still my only way out of that place, so I'm not gonna let anything happen to you. Worst case scenario, you get burnt." Hiro was going to teleport an out of control, with adrenaline pumped, fire-shooting Meredith. Of course he was going to get burnt. "It all depends on timing and coordination. It has to be _perfect_."

"O-kay..." Hiro swallowed nervously. "I know what I have to do. What about you?"

"I'll be waiting for the two of you to leave the building so I can create an explosion. With Meredith gone, we're not gonna get the explosion that is supposed to bring the whole place down, so I'll just have to create one myself."

"How?"

"Well, I was thinking of using the gas pipes down in the underground levels. If I can make a leak there, let the whole place fill with gas, I should be able to create enough force..." Sylar stopped talking when he saw Hiro making a weird face. It was like the little man just realized something, but instead of opening his mouth, he decided to focus on Sylar's sketch and pretend like nothing happened. "What?"

Hiro pressed his lips together and shook his head stubbornly.

Sylar narrowed his eyes. He didn't have time to worry about some low-life Japanese time-traveler plotting something against him, laying traps or whatever secret Hiro was keeping from him. " _What_?"

Hiro stopped shaking his head and looked down at his feet to avoid further eye-contact. "You will die… The explosion, it will kill you."

Sylar had to stop himself from laughing out loud. He couldn't help it. Hiro actually thought that he was stupid enough to get himself killed. "No. The explosion will not kill me, because you are coming back for me. After you teleport Meredith to a safe location, you will come back and do the same for me."

"But the explosion…"

" _Will_ happen. You'll just have to be _very_ fast." Maybe the plan was a bit more demanding than Hiro could handle, but Sylar was convinced that the little man had it in him. He had to believe it could be done, because it was the only way to save Meredith's life _without_ changing the future. He'd gone over it in his head about a hundred times, but it always came back to one thing. The explosion had to happen. The Primatech headquarters and everything in it had to be destroyed. Everyone had to believe that Meredith had died. The piece of glass in the back of Sylar's head had to melt in the fire, while everyone else had to be under the impression that he had died. Gone for good.

"B-but if…"

"If neither of us makes it out alive, you can take pride in the fact that you lost your life trying to save someone else's."

"You?"

"Yes, me." Sylar slammed his hand flat down on the table and turned towards Hiro. His next threat was going to be a very important one. Hiro _had_ to take it seriously. His life depended on it. "Look, I know we have a history. I have tried to kill you, you have tried to kill me, but as far as I see it, that's in the past. I am trying to do something _good_ here, alright? I'm trying to _save_ lives and I'm not even doing it for myself. Now, I'm willing to trust you. You're going to come back for me after taking Meredith to safety, and you will get me out of that place."

"I…"

"But if you don't come back for me, if you decide to leave _without_ me, I promise you, I will do everything in my power to make sure that you won't even have a life to return to. Because if I survive that explosion, which we both know is more than likely to happen, I will come looking for you in the past and when I find you, you will regret messing with me even if you have no idea what you've done wrong. And then I will come after your family and friends. Do you understand?"

"You want to save them. Why?" Hiro asked, completely ignoring Sylar's threats.

Sylar sighed. Threatening Hiro obviously wasn't enough. He had to find a way to put Hiro's loyalty to the test somehow. "Just making amends," he answered as he turned back to his self-made blueprints, "that's all." He wasn't going to elaborate on his desire to earn Claire's forgiveness. Hiro would never understand just how important it was for him to make amends. "Go make yourself useful. The other room needs to be ready for when Meredith arrives. And get rid of that gooey stuff on the walls while you're at it." And by 'gooey stuff' he meant the source of the terrible smell that was constantly penetrating his nostrils. It turned out to be some kind of oozy substance which seemed to be growing all over the walls and ceiling in the next room.

He wasn't the least bit of interested in what it was or how it even got there in the first place. He just wanted it gone.

Hiro took a deep breath and dragged his feet into the other room. Sylar leaned over the table and sighed again. He knew he was supposed to be focusing on how to get Meredith back to the present without disrupting the space-time continuum, but he simply couldn't stop thinking about what he was going to do about Nathan. It bothered him that he hadn't be able to come up with a single plan, even though it had only been a couple of hours since he decided to go through with it.

Nathan's death was just _too_ complicated. Sylar had fought the guy, sliced his throat and left him to die in that hotel room, but that wasn't the end of it. He left Nathan in that chair and went on with his plan to kill the President, not knowing that Petrelli's younger brother Peter was luring him into a trap, then drugged him and brought him back to the hotel, to Parkman, who used his powers to manipulate Sylar into thinking _he_ was Nathan as some kind of replacement.

Sylar had spent _months_ trapped inside that good-for-nothing, self-involved, arrogant bastard's body. Then, when he finally returned to his own body, Nathan's entire existence was finally erased from the world and _that_ was the end of it.

How the hell was he going to keep the real Nathan alive _whilst_ making it look like the real Nathan died in that hotel room and do it so it wouldn't alter the future in any way? How on earth was he going to pull that off? Was it even possible, or was it just too far beyond his capabilities?

Sylar shook his head. It had to be done. He had to give Claire back her parents. Giving them back to her would greatly increase his chances of being forgiven for all the other things he did to her. He knew she wasn't just going to forget about everything and suddenly become best friends with him. He knew that giving back her parents alone wouldn't be enough. But it was a start.

A good start.

"Whatever it takes…" Sylar muttered to himself. As soon as he spoke out loud, however, he realized how quiet it had gotten. It had been quiet for several minutes. He hadn't heard a single sound since Hiro went into the other room and _not_ hearing Hiro making any sound meant only one thing.

Hiro had left the building.

Sylar strode angrily towards the other room and wasn't even bothered by the smell when he entered it. What bothered him was Hiro's absence. He started freaking out, because not only did he lose his only transport to the past, he also had to do all the things he told Hiro he would do if the guy would pull a stunt like that. He had to _kill_ people. He had to kill Hiro's friend and he had to kill the woman at the hospital, because that's what he said he would do if Hiro did not do as he was told. If he didn't do any of those things, no one was going to take him seriously ever again.

Sylar narrowed his eyes. Maybe he didn't have to kill them after all. He only had to make Hiro _think_ that he was going to do something terrible to his friends. He could easily abduct those two and tell Hiro that he would see them again, but only if he helped bringing back Meredith and Nathan. Hiro wouldn't doubt the lengths Sylar would go to, to get what he wanted.

Saving Meredith and Nathan was going to take a lot longer than he intended, but if that was the only way to get things done then that's what he had to do. There was no alternative.

Sylar left the room and was about to head back towards the hospital when he heard a whoosh and turned around.

Hiro was back.

And he brought his friend.

But that wasn't what they agreed to. "You never learn, do you?" Sylar grabbed the other Asian by his throat telekinetically and lifted him up from the ground. "I told you not to tell anyone."

"Ando can help," Hiro pleaded.

"That wasn't the deal." The deal was that if Hiro told anyone about their plan, Sylar would kill the people he cared about. And already he found it hard to hurt Hiro's friend. His body was resisting. He couldn't find the strength to tighten his grip and squeeze the life out of that guy. He had to come up with another solution. He couldn't show them his weakness. "Help how?"

"Hiro told me about your plan," Hiro's friend said, all in one quick breath.

"That was his first mistake." Sylar moved the guy across the room and threw him against the wall. "Bringing you here was the second one."

"Y-you need someone to stay watch when you go back in t-time," he stammered. "If you leave her here, by herself… s-she will try t-to escape."

Sylar had to admit it was a good idea to have someone watch Meredith while he and Hiro went to get Nathan, but that didn't change the fact that Hiro went behind his back. If he started accepting that kind of behavior, how much longer would it take for Hiro to catch up and see through the lies? It was eating him up to think what would happen if people found out. He couldn't stop picturing them going on some kind of witch hunt together, marching, holding pitch forks and torches, shouting his name, finding ways to get rid of him once and for all… "Fine," he grunted angrily. He chose to give them the benefit of the doubt, despite of his reputation. The fact that Hiro came up with a good idea was more important than the fact that he went behind Sylar's back.

"Thank you," Hiro's friend said once his feet were back on the surface.

"Yeah, yeah. Just... go to the other room. I need to think." He had to figure out what to do about Nathan, because it was going to be a tricky one and it was definitely going to cost him more than just a few burns.


	4. The Man in the Mirror

_Nathan Petrelli's office – Washington, DC_

Sylar drew in a sharp breath.

Something was wrong.

Something was terribly wrong.

After he and Hiro went back in time to save Meredith's life, they went back again to save Nathan's. It wasn't easy. It took a while before they were able to convince Nathan that they were there to _save_ his life, and if it wasn't for Hiro they never would've been able to get through to him. But that wasn't even the hardest part. He and Nathan actually had to work together to make sure everything played out the way it was supposed to.

In the end, Sylar decided to shapeshift and take Nathan's place to get killed in his stead. It was the only way to keep the timeline intact. Everyone had to believe that Nathan had died. He prolonged his death just long enough to let someone find him, to let them see Nathan's 'corpse'. Once his body was found all that was left for him to do was disappear.

And then it was up to Hiro to take them back to the present, back to Isaac's loft, back to Ando and Meredith. That was the plan.

But something went wrong. Sylar didn't go back to the loft. He didn't even go to New York. He was back in his office. No, not his office. Not anymore. This office once belonged to him during the time he thought he was someone else, when he was _forced_ into thinking he was someone else. But all of that was in the past. He had fought his way back into his own body.

It had to be some kind of sick joke. He just went to hell and back to prevent Nathan Petrelli from being killed so, what was Sylar doing sitting in _his_ chair?

The phone went off.

Sylar frowned at the thing and cleared his throat. He knew better than to pick it up. Screwing with history had led him to this place but matters were bound to get worse once he picked up that phone. Something had changed because of his meddling. The timeline had changed somehow, but he had no idea what it was or how it happened.

The phone stopped ringing.

Sylar got up from his chair and frowned. He wobbled a little. His legs… they felt different somehow.

"Don't worry, I'll let myself in."

The door flew wide open. Sylar looked up just as Peter Petrelli stormed into the room.

"Seriously, what's the point of hiring an assistant if you won't even let her do her job?" Peter asked. He crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.

The assistant in question came in after Peter, looking very distressed. "I'm sorry, I told him you were busy…"

Sylar didn't know what to say. The whole situation was unknown to him. Was Peter still his enemy in this timeline? Was it okay for him to call security and have someone else deal with him?

"I'm sure he can take five minutes off his busy schedule to talk to me."

Sylar decided to go along with it and nodded his head.

His assistant clearly wasn't convinced, but as his employee, she didn't have much of a choice. She left the office quickly and closed the door behind her.

Sylar turned his attention back to Petrelli, watching him like a hawk. For a moment all the other guy did was look back at him, regarding him curiously as though he was trying to figure something out.

Then, all of a sudden, Petrelli was coming at him. Sylar didn't see a knife. He didn't see a gun. Either his weapon was concealed, or Peter was going to get his revenge the old-fashioned way and choke him to death with his bare hands. Or maybe he actually found an ability strong enough to defeat Sylar.

But there was no weapon. Sylar wasn't being choked. He was being… hugged.

Peter buried his face in his brother's shoulder and sighed. "I'm sorry for what I said last time." He let go and took a step back. "But this couldn't wait. I need to tell you something. It's important."

Sylar roughly pushed the guy away and looked down at his hands. No, not his hands. These hands, these fingers, they were smaller. The skin was scarred and calloused. The ring he wore on his left hand wasn't his either. The watch on his wrist was an expensive one and he had definitely seen it before, but he had never worn nor owned a piece like that in his entire life. These were not his hands.

"What's wrong?" Peter asked.

Sylar strode through the room, looking for a mirror. He found one in the back of a glass cabinet containing various awards and honor medals. He went to stand before it and looked at his face, but it wasn't his.

The person looking back at him was Nathan Petrelli.

"What's going on?" Peter asked as he put his hand on Sylar's shoulder.

Sylar shrugged it off and continued to peer at himself in the mirror. His jaw, his nose, his hair… every part of him was Nathan. He started pulling on his cheeks and tried rubbing them, but nothing changed. "Oh, no." He even sounded like Nathan.

"Nathan?"

"I'm not supposed to be here…"

"What are you talking about?"

"I… have to go." He had to figure out what went wrong. He should have stopped living as Nathan a long time ago, but for some reason… he didn't. He had to find Hiro and go back to make things right again.

"Tell me what's going on. Let me help."

"It's nothing," Sylar said as he grabbed Nathan's coat. "I just… I have to go… do a thing." Isaac's loft, there he should be able to find Hiro. That's where he left Meredith with Hiro's friend.

"You always say that. You have to listen to me, Nate. It's important. I came to warn you. This guy Samuel, he's up to something."

Sylar scoffed. "Recruiting people with abilities to join his lame-ass amusement park, yeah I know. It's nothing to worry about." He put on his coat and went for the door, but Peter jumped in front of him, blocking his path.

"How do _you_ know that?"

"How do I know what?"

"You said you had no recollection of the time you were away."

Sylar wanted to punch himself in the face. Of course, there were things that he-that Nathan wasn't supposed to know about. " _You_ told me about him. You told me he tried to recruit you." Sylar was definitely going to betray himself if he continued talking. He had to get out. He had to find Hiro.

But Peter wasn't going to let him leave like that. "What're you talking about? I never told you that."

"You're right. I lied." Sylar looked away for a moment and tried to come up with a good excuse. He looked back at Peter and said, "Ma told me." He shouldered the guy out of his way and left the office. "I'm going out for a few hours," he told Nathan's assistant before he stepped into the elevator.

Peter rushed in just as the doors were closing. He crossed his arms and looked Sylar in the eye. "Then answer this for me. When did we last see each other?"

Sylar pushed the button for the ground floor. He was desperately trying to get away from Petrelli, but his 'brother' was being more stubborn than ever. "I really don't have time for this right now. I have… a meeting to go to."

Peter turned away and smashed his fist into the alarm button with an ear-deafening bang.

Sylar had to grab onto something when the elevator suddenly came to a stop. "What the hell are you doing?" He looked past Peter and saw a hole in the control panel of the elevator.

" _Answer_ the question."

"You said it yourself, a few weeks ago."

"Where?"

"In-in my office."

"What did we talk about?"

"We talked about…" Sylar tried to come up with something that made sense, but all he could think about was, "Claire. We talked about Claire." The reason he got himself into this mess. Surely, there was some truth in his answer.

Peter closed his eyes and sighed.

For a moment Sylar thought he had won, but then Petrelli suddenly flew at him. His left hand curled around Sylar's throat and with his right he punched Sylar in the face, not once, not twice, but three times before he noticed that Sylar wasn't fighting back. This took him by surprise. He let go of Sylar and stood. "What did you do to my brother?!"

Sylar wiped the blood from his face with the sleeve of his coat and tried to sit up. "How did you know?"

"The Haitian told me," Peter answered as he massaged his hand. "About two months ago he came to me and told me that Nathan was gone, that you were just a shape-shifter. And you were already acting strange. You told me you were confused about your identity and that you had been for a while. But there was no proof, so we decided to let it go. Then, a few weeks ago, I caught you looking into a mirror the way you were doing just now. I suggested that maybe the Haitian was right after all, but you denied everything. And here we are…"

Sylar was starting to fit the pieces together. Hiro had taken him and Nathan back to the future immediately after they staged his death, which meant his body was never brought to that storage place. Peter never found Nathan's body, never found proof that the man he believed to be his brother was in fact an imposter. Peter and Nathan never sought out Matt Parkman, they never let Sylar return to his own body. Everyone, including Sylar himself, always kept believing that Nathan was alive.

"You son of a bitch… You killed him! You killed my brother!" Peter was back on the floor, with one hand holding the collar of Sylar's coat and the other hovering in mid-air, ready to beat the crap out of him again. "So, it _was_ you. All this time, pretending to be… What did you do to him, huh? Cut his head open, like you did the rest? And then you decided… what? That you wanted to be him? To live _his_ life? You're sick!"

Sylar didn't move a single muscle. He didn't think Peter would believe him if he said that Nathan was, in fact, not dead, that he was very much alive, and probably waiting for some answers himself, back in New York.

"You stole his identity, you stole his entire _life_. You're disgusting! Now," Peter took a deep breath to calm himself down, "tell me what you did to him. _Tell_ me what you did to his body."

This was his chance. "If you'll let me, I can take you to him."

"Are you for real?" Peter narrowed his eyes. "I'm just supposed to trust you now?"

"You don't have a choice. Look, I need to find him too, alright? He's the only one who can get me out of this mess."

"He's alive?"

"Yes."

Peter hesitated for a moment, but then got to his feet. "The benefit of the doubt, that is all I am giving you." He looked at Sylar from the corner of his eye and clenched his teeth. "Why do you still look like him?"

"I don't know." Sylar honestly did not know. He had been trying to get back into his own body ever since he saw Nathan's face in the mirror, but no matter how hard he tried, nothing seemed to happen. He must have been inside this body for too long to simply change it back. Maybe looking at the real Nathan Petrelli would do the trick.

Peter didn't look pleased with Sylar's answer. He turned around.

Sylar groaned as he got up. He told Peter he knew where to find Nathan, but he didn't actually know for sure. All he knew was that Hiro had taken Nathan to the future, to Isaac's loft, but now he was not so sure. Maybe they ended up somewhere completely different as well. "How are we gonna get out of here?"

Peter was already on it. He pushed his hands in between the sliding doors and started pulling at either side. Opening those doors was done so easily, it was obvious that he was using super-strength.

Sylar looked at the hole in the wall and realized that that could have been him. Petrelli could have punched a hole in his head instead of the elevator. His fists still felt like bricks as they landed on Sylar's face, but all they did was cause a small concussion, one he was still recovering from.

"Let's go," Peter said as he climbed up to the floor above him.

Sylar followed him through the narrow slit between the elevator and the floor above. People were staring at them as they climbed out of the elevator and walked towards the staircase, but he ignored them. He knew looking like Nathan was going to turn a few heads, but he wasn't going to act on it. Not while the real Nathan Petrelli was out there, somewhere.

"So, where to?" Peter asked as they descended the stairs.

"Isaac Mendez's apartment."

"That's in New York. How are we gonna get there?"

"We can fly," Sylar answered with a shrug.

Peter stopped and turned around. "You can _fly_?"

"It's not what it sounds like."

"It's _exactly_ what it sounds like. You can _fly_. I think that answers everything."

"Nathan is alive."

"That's not how you operate, though, is it?"

"His ability… I managed to get it before I…" Sylar paused. Before he… what? Before he killed Nathan? Before he almost killed Nathan? Or before he stopped himself from killing Nathan? Neither one of those answers was going to help his case. "Never mind. He's alive, that's all you need to know."

Peter walked back up the stairs until he stood level to Sylar and grabbed him by his jaw, replicating his ability instantly. "I am going to New York to see if your story checks out and if it doesn't, I _will_ come for you. You hear me? The fact that you're wearing my brother's face will _not_ stop me from ending you." He then turned around and stormed off.

Sylar massaged his jaw. He didn't feel like going after Peter, but he didn't have much of a choice. He still had to find Hiro Nakamura. They had to repair the timeline, no matter what.

They arrived at Isaac's loft at about the same time. Peter went in first, breaking down the door with very little effort. He rushed inside without a second thought.

Sylar followed at his own pace. He entered through the front door just when Peter rushed into the other room. He heard their voices, including one female, which had to belong to Meredith. He walked further into the room and stopped to watch everything from a distance.

"Thank God," Peter embraced his brother into a tight hug. "You're alive..."

Nathan looked a little confused but also glad to see his little brother again. "Calm down, Pete. It's like you haven't seen me in years." He backed away a little, just so he could put his hands on Peter's shoulders. "And? Did you do it? Did you save the President?"

"The President?" Peter turned his head to look at the others. "Yeah, we stopped Sylar, but that was almost a year ago..."

"A year?"

"Yeah." Peter turned around slowly and looked at Meredith with a puzzled expression on his face. "You died…"

"Apparently I did."

Sylar had waited long enough. He walked into the room, grabbed Hiro by his arm and dragged him away from the others. "We have to go back," he hissed.

Hiro seemed confused. He looked back and forth between the Nathan standing before him, the one in suit and tie, and the Nathan standing in the other room. "Flying man?"

"You!" Nathan shouted when he saw Sylar. "You were supposed to come back with us. What the hell happened? Why do you still look like me? Answer me!"

"It's Sylar," Peter explained. "He had us all fooled into thinking he was you. And all this time he's been keeping you here."

"Uh oh…"

"Hiro!" Sylar reached out and grabbed the front of Hiro's shirt. "Take me back, take me back now!" Everything was falling apart.

Hiro met his gaze but did not falter. This time, he didn't seem intimidated at all.

"You little…" Sylar let go of him and grinned. The time-traveler felt so safe with his fellow 'heroes' by his side. Hiro had somehow convinced himself that he could not be harmed with the Petrelli brothers there to protect him. Boy, was he wrong. "Remember the promise I made you?" Sylar turned around and tried to see where that friend of Hiro had gone to. He was probably hiding in the other room. "Get out of my way!"

As he made his way across the room, he felt his limbs go numb. His legs were starting to feel like Jell-O. His head started to swirl, his vision blurred, and he fell to the floor, _hard_.

The last thing he saw before he blacked out was the Haitian standing over him.


	5. Interrogation Techniques

_Isaac Mendez's loft – New York City_

"He's weak."

"That's what he wants us to believe. This might as well be part of his plan."

"What plan? What reason could he have for bringing you here?"

"He needs the two of you, alive. That means it's not about your abilities. Look at the facts. He already has the ability to fly, and if he wanted pyrokinesis… He would have taken it right where he found you, in the past."

"Okay, so if it's not about taking our powers, then what?"

"That's what we have to find out."

Sylar had been drowsing for the past five minutes, so he managed to catch only a fraction of what those idiots were saying about him. They had placed him on a chair, bound his hands behind his back and his ankles to the chair's legs with cable ties while he was still unconscious. He tried using his powers to free himself, but it was futile. There was this wall, this invisible barrier which made it impossible for him to access that part of his brain. It was incredibly frustrating.

"He's still unconscious."

"That might take a while. Let me know when he comes to."

"Are you going somewhere?"

"I've lost almost a year of my life, Pete. I'm going to see Ma. She owes me an explanation."

"I'll come with you."

Sylar couldn't help but feel a little relieved. He didn't like having an audience. Just sitting there and not being able to do anything… it was humiliating. His arms were painfully stiff, and he was cold. He hadn't been cold in a very long time. He almost forgot what it felt like.

"So, we're just gonna stand here and wait for him to wake up?"

"No, we're not."

Sylar was kind of hoping that meant he'd be left alone, but that turned out to be wishful thinking.

"Time to get some answers."

He heard footsteps. Someone was coming towards him, walking at a steady pace. And then they stopped.

Sylar kept very still. He knew someone was standing right in front of him. There was a certain… tension in the air. He could feel it, even with his eyes closed. Whoever it was had been anticipating this moment for a very long time.

Sylar kept up the pretense of being unconscious and waited anxiously. He knew something was coming, but it was one hell of a shock when he was suddenly being splashed in the face with gallons of ice-cold water. He opened his mouth to get some air in his lungs and then breathed out again as the water poured down his face and upper body. The shock combined with the cold temperature of the water had his heart racing.

"Feeling like yourself again?"

Sylar looked up at the man in the horn-rimmed glasses and clenched his fists. "You have no idea…"

Noah threw the empty bucket aside and walked away.

"What are you gonna do to him?" Meredith asked as she looked at Sylar.

"Hiro has already told us what Sylar told him."

"But?"

"There has to be an ulterior motive."

"You think you can get it out of him?"

"He's usually quite upfront about his intentions. But now he's holding something back and that makes him a risk. We need to know what it is."

"Is there anything _I_ can do?"

Meredith sounded a little bit too excited to Sylar's taste. He met her eyes all across the room and noticed the vile look on her face. It reminded him of Claire. She wore the exact same expression on her face every time she looked at him. The resemblance was remarkable.

"He tried to kill us, Noah. You would've burned alive if Claire hadn't found us in that cell. I know I'm alive because of him, but we wouldn't even have been in that situation if it wasn't for him."

"You're welcome…" Sylar muttered under his breath. He knew she was right. Nevertheless, he had expected just a little bit more gratitude.

"You can't use your powers right now." Noah took his phone out of the pocket of his jacket and gave it to Meredith. "Why don't you give Claire a call? Let her know you're alive. Also, you might want to give her the heads up about Sylar. She still thinks he's is dead."

"Shouldn't we tell Nathan, let him know that Sylar woke up?"

"Later."

Meredith nodded and left the loft to make the call.

"That was a smart move," Sylar said as he fought hard not to shiver in front of his captor. "Getting rid of everybody, just so we'd be alone."

"I wanted to talk to you about something." Noah grabbed a chair and placed it in front of Sylar. He sat down, crossed one leg over the other and folded his hands. "Remember what happened a little over a year ago? It's okay if you don't. I'm sure your head is all over the place right now, so let me help you a little. You were powerless due to the effects of the eclipse. You, Elle… and Claire."

"I remember."

"You hurt my daughter that day."

"I wasn't the one who shot her."

"You might as well have," Noah said calmly. "Pain and suffering are kind of like your trademark."

"I guess we have s-something in common then." Sylar could no longer stop himself from shaking. He was so cold he could see his own breath. But he wasn't just shaking from the cold. He was raging with anger. In his head, he had already thought of ten different ways to kill the Haitian, with and without powers. "You're no b-better than me."

"I know I should have thought about your off-switch after I sliced your throat. That was my mistake. It won't happen again." Noah stood and moved the chair away. "Why did you bring them back?" he asked as he came back to stand before Sylar.

"That's none of your b-business."

Noah drew back his arm and cracked Sylar on the jaw. "Why did you bring them back?"

Sylar spat out a phlegm of blood. "You're wasting your time."

This time Noah used an uppercut move to hit him just below the chin, hard enough to almost dislocate his jaw. "Why did you bring them back?"

Sylar remained silent which earned him another smack on the side of his head. He thought he had gotten used to pain, that he was no longer afraid of it, but it was different knowing he wouldn't be able to regenerate. Bennet's remark about his off-switch didn't exactly go unnoticed either.

"Why did you bring them back?"

This time he was struck on the nose. Thick, warm liquid streamed over his mouth and down his chin. He breathed in through his mouth and out again with a grunt of pain. "Why do you even care? They are alive and… out there. I'm here. W-whatever I had planned… it obviously failed." His chances of going back to the past were beginning to slip further and further away. Hiro was gone. The tattoo was gone. His reputation… it was all gone.

"What kind of idiot do you take me for? Out of all the people that you killed, all the bodies you dropped, you chose to bring back Meredith Gordon and Nathan Petrelli. This has something to do with Claire and _that_ makes it my business."

"Maybe I b-brought them back just so I could k-kill them all over again," Sylar joked. He was never going to tell Bennet the truth, so he might as well try to enjoy himself while he still could. Getting on HRG's nerves was and always had been one of his favorite pastimes.

Noah drew back his fist and hit him again. "I don't believe you."

"Noah," Meredith called out as she reentered the loft. She looked at Sylar and saw the state he was in. "I see your interrogation techniques have improved."

Sylar hoped for her sake that she was being sarcastic. "We were just getting reacquainted," he said, showing her his teeth and the blood that was probably on them.

"Did you talk to her?" Noah asked.

"She's not answering." Meredith handed him the phone just as it went off.

Noah answered quickly. "Claire?"

Sylar looked up at the mention of her name. He was very eager to know what his meddling with the timeline had done to her life. Their encounter of the day before obviously never happened. He never visited her at the university. She never stabbed him in the eye with a pencil. She didn't even know he was still alive.

"I tried to call you," Noah said to his daughter. "There's something I need to tell you…"

"…"

"No, Claire. You can't trust him. He is dangerous…"

"…"

"Why would he turn himself in?"

"..."

"Don't worry, I'll be there. Everything's going to be okay."

"What's going on?" Meredith asked as Noah ended the call.

"She needs my help."

"Samuel S-Sullivan," Sylar stuttered as the water continued to drip down his face and body. "That's who you we're talking about, r-right? That guy is never going to t-turn himself in. He's ma-manipulating her." He was shivering uncontrollably. His teeth were chattering. If his body temperature continued to drop at this rate he was definitely going to die of hypothermia and soon.

Noah eyed him suspiciously. "I'm not even gonna ask how you got this information."

"I clearly missed a lot," Meredith said. "Who's Samuel Sullivan?"

"I'll tell you on the way."

"You want me to come with you?"

"Yes, but we have to leave now."

"What about him?"

"Yes." Sylar looked at the two of them from under his eyebrows. "W-what about m-me?"

"He'll still be here after we've dealt with Samuel. Don't worry, he has died before." Noah looked down at Sylar. The left corner of his mouth curled into a vicious grin. "I'm sure he's used to it by now."

Sylar watched them go. They stopped just outside the loft to give the Haitian new instructions and then they were gone. They just left him there. He never expected a 'thank-you' from either Nathan or Meredith, but was letting him live too much to ask? He didn't know Meredith very well. He gained most of Nathan's memories after touching some of his personal belongings, but never anything about her. He never thought she'd be so cruel.

He started to lean forward in his chair, feeling the need to curl up like a ball, but he couldn't. His hands were tied behind the back of his chair which made it impossible to move around much. He hung his head to the side and looked down at the floor. It seemed like the perfect place to lie down and take a nap. The fall was going to be painful, but it would only be temporary. Sooner or later he would wake up and he would be fine.

The Haitian had to leave at some point. Didn't he have more important things to do? Other places to go? A Carnival perhaps? There was one Carnival in particular he could go to. The one that Bennet mentioned. The Sullivan Bros Carnival.

Sylar remembered living there for a while. It was owned by a madman named Samuel Sullivan who had the ability to create giant sinkholes and cause earthquakes. There was a woman, a beautiful woman with a beautiful ability. Lydia was her name. And there were so many others. People with extraordinary abilities. And Sylar used to be one of them.

Samuel was planning something big. He wasn't the type to turn himself in. He was the type of guy that killed everyone who stood in his way, just like Sylar once was. It had to be some kind of trap. Someone had to tell them. Someone had to tell Claire.

Sylar woke up and groaned in pain. Somehow he ended up lying on the floor. He remembered thinking it was the best place for him to sleep. It turned out that he was wrong. Being tied to the chair still, it was the most uncomfortable position he'd ever been in. His hands and feet had already gone numb from the cold and it was only a matter of time before the rest of his body gave out.

He didn't know how much time had passed. Hours, probably. He knew he had been unconscious on and off, but he didn't know exactly how many times or how long he'd been awake. It was easier to just die and wait to be resurrected. That way, at least he didn't have to suffer.

At some point he heard voices. They were still far away but they were loud. People were having some kind of argument. The door to the loft opened. Someone came in.

"What the hell happened here?" Nathan's voice, unmistakably. "Jesus Christ… Did Bennet do this?"

Sylar frowned. Someone was putting pressure on his throat. Maybe he was being choked.

"He's alive. Come on, help me get him up."

No, not up. Sylar didn't want to get up. He was perfectly fine lying on the floor. Getting back on that chair was only going to trigger the pain he'd been trying so hard to ignore.

"Careful… Okay, on the count of three. 1… 2… 3…"

Sylar was lifted back on his chair, just like that. They didn't even ask for his permission. It was so rude. He leaned forward and hung his head.

"Find something to cut him loose."

"You're kidding, right?"

"Either you cut him loose or he'll do it himself. Come on, hurry up."

"Where are you going?"

"I'll take care of the Haitian."

"Wait, what? Do you really think that's a good idea?"

"We can't just leave him like that."

"Why not? He'd do the same to us if the roles were reversed."

"That's not true and you know it. His story checks out, Nathan. He saved your life."

"He's the one who tried to kill me in the first place!"

"I know, but that's in the past. He's shown remorse for his actions."

Sylar watched the drip, drip, drip of his brood drool as he waited for Peter to leave the room. What Nathan was doing, roaming around, he did not know. "He has a mind of his own, y'know." Sylar opened his eyes. A long silence followed.

Nathan scoffed. There was a hint of jealousy in his voice when he said, "you don't know what you're talking about. You don't know him."

Sylar couldn't help but smile. "I do, actually. If you want, I can fill you in on what you've missed."

"Screw you."

Sylar chuckled. "You kiss your wife with that mouth?" he baited. "Sorry. _Ex_ -wife."

"I wouldn't know, would I?" Nathan sneered. "I haven't seen her in over a year. But, hey, maybe you have. You're the one who's been living my life for the past eight months, so you tell me." Again, Nathan's words were full of envy.

Sylar knew he had to stop messing around. It wasn't fair. "You blame me."

"Oh, I want to. Believe me, I do." Nathan sighed and walked across the room, back to where Sylar was. "But, unfortunately, this is the result of one of my mother's crazy schemes. She wanted to keep me alive, no matter the cost."

"She sure is creative."

"That's one way of putting it."

Sylar looked up as Nathan circled around him. "What are you doing?"

"Stay still."

"What?" Sylar almost fell out of his chair as Nathan cut off the zip ties around his wrists, but he was grabbed by his shoulder and pushed back just in time. "You don't have to do this."

"Peter seems to think I owe you."

"But you don't." Sylar frowned. He looked down at his hands. He was able to move his fingers again. Blood was pumping through his veins again. He could feel the warmth spreading through his body, like drinking hot coco on a cold winter's day. He was regenerating. The invisible barrier was gone.

"Where did everybody go?" Peter asked as he walked back into the room.

"They're at the Carnival." Sylar removed the cable ties around his ankles just by looking at them and got to his feet. "You were right. Samuel is planning something."

Nathan frowned at the two of them. "Who the hell is Samuel?"


End file.
